again he sits back, legs up...

this time it starts out all smiles. it's edited for his specific consumption. such a chopped-up masterpiece, "metaphorical" he'd exclaim if asked...

intensity as a distraction, his eyes glaze again.

...imagining this rainy day carrying over out two windows in running rivulets streaking condensed emotion. these things upturn the inner tips of my eyebrows. it's too perfect to exist.

smiles.

it's just too perfect.

there's fabric on his lap he handles like egyptian linen in the hands of an archeologist. nothing at this moment this day this second has more value and significance...

the intoxication of sound, the intoxication of smell... especially of smell. it hurts. it will never smell so good again and this is all he can think of.

he still hasn't mustered the courage to let it see light. he's studying it as though it is a stolen international secret...

languishing in the intoxication, it overtakes him and the need to become somehow enfolded in and engulfed by the entire situation proves overwhelming and he surrenders to it with shaking hands and shallow breaths.

he pulls off the clothes that smell like him and he hesitates, staring ahead and down at the fabric in his hands.

shallow breaths give way to deep, he brings it to his face and hesitates again.

it's too perfect. all of it.

impossible to classify... its scent is like what he imagines outer space to smell like. it covers and permeates, penetrates like an infection of an untreatable disease, but really treatment is unnecessary.

today, this moment, this second, he's reveling in it.

sitting back, feet up, music surrounding him, the fabric of the shirt he now wears falling from his hands as his head tilts back to rest against the chair. the whole experience lays thick in his head and creates the dizziness that compels him to feel in the third person.

it's too perfect to be happening to him.

as he listens, more often than not his eyes are lightly shut and rolled safely back into his head.

and this was only side one, entitled fortune.

(i know i know, i'm still staving off the inevitable longass entry about the strange and terrible weekend, but there are pressing matters here.)